Butterfly, butterfly…

The other day, on my morning walk, I met my long-lost friend
A white butterfly with a black dot on each wing, flitting from flower to flower
I stopped, looked at her and smiled. “Where have you been for so long?” I wondered
The butterfly paused too for a while, she heard me, or so I thought
But as I walked gently towards her to take a closer look, she fluttered and glided away
“Oh, come back, I missed you so,” but off she flew, away from the manicured shrubs of my society’s park

Image courtesy hepl.lib.in.us Every morning I seek her, but she’s nowhere to be found Butterfly, her friends’ dragonfly, grasshopper and honeybee, who would buzz around my garden when I was a little girl Flitting from flower to flower, moving from leaves to leaves, what a delight to watch Sometimes they would dart into my room through the open window humming a tune of love For them the flowers bloomed and yielded honey, for them the earth blossomed The little girl in me flourished happily in their company Then one day I had to leave my childhood garden and my friends behind. The joy of exploring the world, the sorrow of leaving my little garden behind. “I will be back soon,” I assured my winged friends as I bid them goodbye But the world and its many wonders had me captivated. Like a sailor drawn to a siren’s song, I moved on and on. The glitzy concrete cities beckoned me, the tall skyscrapers created an illusion of success and achievement. The little garden and my winged friends were soon forgotten, like sweet nothings that catch your fancy for a while. The garden in my concrete high rise is all so meticulously planned and organized, that allows no flitting and fluttering of butterflies, honeybees, grasshoppers or dragonflies One morning I chanced upon her again, my sweet childhood friend, butterfly. “Where are my other friends, dragonfly, grasshopper and honeybee?” She froze for a while, then off she flew far, far away. "That’s rude, I am hurt, that’s no way to treat an old friend. “Friend? Really?” I suddenly heard the buzzing bee over my head". “Where were you when they were destroying our garden and killing your winged friends?”

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